


touch you softly (i call you up late at night)

by ylang



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylang/pseuds/ylang
Summary: Lindsey thinks that the hardest part of being with Emily is having to wait to kiss her.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	touch you softly (i call you up late at night)

**Author's Note:**

> so. the concacaf ceremony huh.
> 
> title from softly by clairo. yes i caved in using the parentheses yes its like every other fic title whatever. its the only way to make it fit

Lindsey thinks that the hardest part of being with Emily is having to wait to kiss her.

It’s not fair, honestly. She’ll see Emily joking around with Kelley or Ali, hand covering her mouth as she laughs, and she wants to kiss her on her flushed cheeks. Or after a bullshit call and she sasses the ref just a little bit, a light smile on her face. Lindsey laughs when she takes extra care to leave up her hands every time she touches another player, like she’s about to get arrested. Or when they’re getting coffee early in the morning, people bustling to get to work but they get to take their time, just sitting outside. Lindsey gets to stare at Emily scroll on her phone all she wants, hair soft and shining in the sun. Emily would pay for their coffee, and Lindsey Venmos it to her later, typing something she knows will make Emily in her separate room blush, or laugh, or both.

Lindsey thinks that their last CONCACAF game is the hardest one to get through.

Because yes, it’s Canada, their supposed rivals, but the game doesn’t really matter and Lindsey feels the buzz in the stadiums, on the field. And it’s the last one for a month. _ Their _last one for a month. Which after then, it’ll be a long while until they play together.

It starts when Lindsey scores and she glances back at Emily doing her little fist pump before she runs into the bench. There’s a reason she named that same moment in a 2018 game against Seattle as her favorite of the season. 

She doesn’t kiss Emily, though. No matter how much she wants to, it’s unprofessional and just a little cheesy and mostly embarrassing and will make her the subject of a lot of teasing, and that holds Lindsey back enough to make reasonable choices, like keeping her eyes off Emily during her celebration. It’s easy enough, Kelley and Tobin and the rest of the bench swarm her. All she has to do is revel in the feeling and know that Emily is right behind her.

It’s a little harder when they _ win _. They’re CONCACAF champions, complete with gold medals and confetti and smoke cannons. It doesn’t matter at all, but the win feels amazing, heightened in the presence of Emily. Everything makes Lindsey feel as though she’s on top of the world. Maybe it’s the podium they’re on. Maybe it’s because she’s just that much taller than her.

It’s a mush of red white and blue and their teammate’s yells around them, but Lindsey is hyperfocused on what Emily has to say. Or rather, how she looks while saying it. It’s some cheeky joke about how Carlos Cordeiro always gives the coldest hugs, and it’s funny. It always is. Lindsey leans her head in the crook of her elbow and just watches, holding herself back from doing something stupid. Then, it’s a matter of all of the cameras around them. Emily is already so private, so cautious, that Lindsey doesn’t want to risk anything.

By then, Emily stops speaking and just stares at Lindsey, half smile on her face.

“What?” Lindsey asks.

“Nothing. You’re just staring,” Emily says simply. Her voice is a little hoarse.

“Am I?”

Emily doesn’t respond, just stares back, with that stupid open mouthed smile. Lindsey feels like she could tease back, but she doesn’t. She’s in a bubble with Emily, alone. It would be so easy to just lean in.

And she almost leans in. Almost.

But then Kelley is jumping on both of their backs, yelling at them to pose for the camera, and Emily turns away. Lindsey places a hand on her knee as she crouches so the cameras have the slightest hope at seeing Kelley. She hopes that Emily can tell what it means without words. She places one on Rose’s knee for good measure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Emily look down, and make an executive decision. She places her hand on the inside of Lindsey’s thigh. It’s small, and a little sweaty, but Lindsey understands what she means as well. 

When they lift their hands in the air and scream into the confetti filled air, Lindsey grasps for Emily’s hand in the jostle. They intertwine their fingers, all without looking at each other. 

When they set their hands down, still interlocked, then they look at each other. And Lindsey can recognize something in Emily’s gaze, despite the fact that she’s laughing with her face scrunched up. Happiness. Lindsey feels it too, so incredibly happy. So happy that she almost forgets everything else.

Even the smoke cannons can’t scare her that much, especially if Emily leans into her shoulder, shocked by the outburst.

Lindsey doesn’t kiss her then, and she doesn’t kiss her either when Emily is leaning into her shoulder again on the bus back to the hotel. Her hair is freshly showered and creating a cold, wet patch on Lindsey’s shirt, but she doesn’t mind. 

Lindsey could kiss her. The bus is quiet, tired from the celebrations and the nonstop games and practices. She could sneak one, quickly. But it doesn’t feel right, and Lindsey wants to do it right.

They’ve been taking it slow as a precaution. It’s all relatively new. It’s different, now that they’re finally together in the way they wanted, but also not. Lindsey thinks that Emily is being careful because she doesn’t want the move to hurt more, already so tender about it. Lindsey is just new to everything. 

They haven’t told anyone yet, but they both think that everyone knows.

And the sneaking around can be a little exhilarating, the sense of novelty and just the slightest amount of danger. But Lindsey’s tired and she wants, deep down, to just do everything, no limits. To be Emily’s completely, to have Emily as hers completely.

But Emily seems like she cares. So Lindsey simply presses a kiss to her forehead, soft and sweet. It’s nothing they haven’t done before. 

Emily cuddles into Lindsey’s shoulder further, smushing her face deeper into Lindsey’s chest, smiling softly. Again, nothing new.

And then she pulls Lindsey’s hands into hers, gentle and tender. Lindsey relaxes into it. She can wait.

She waits until they get back to the hotel. Emily is brushing her teeth in her hotel bathroom, and Lindsey can hear her spit out and rinse just over the sounds of the Oscars on TV. Rose has been kicked out of their room after much grumbling, made to spend time in Emily’s with Sam instead. Lindsey whispered to her that it was because she just wanted to spend time with Emily, what with that trade. It was only a half truth. But it got Rose to shut up.

Emily had showed up at her door almost immediately after Rose left with a simple two knocks, never more. She didn’t need to anyways, Lindsey opened it immediately. Emily came in with her phone, a charger, and a toothbrush, no toothpaste, which she had to borrow from Lindsey. Lindsey welcomed her in, opening the door just a hair, and she sidled in through the crack to quietly start brushing her teeth.

“When’s your flight tomorrow?” Lindsey hears Emily ask. She looks up from her phone, photos of them she was tagged in on Instagram on her screen, and sees Emily leaning casually on the doorway, in Thorns shorts she borrowed from Lindsey and a plain white T-shirt, hair in a messy bun.

Lindsey doesn’t answer, just makes grabby hands towards Emily, who sheepishly throws herself into the bed with Lindsey, automatically finding a place on Lindsey’s shoulder. Lindsey wraps her arm around Emily’s.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Emily says grumpily.

Lindsey huffs out a laugh, “Want to get rid of me so soon?”

“Of course.”

Lindsey gives in, “It’s early, 7:30 am.”

“It’s like, what, 10:30 now? You should go to sleep.”

“I want to spend time with you.”

Emily doesn’t have a response. They watch the commercials, all ones they’ve seen before while watching the Superbowl with Kelley in their shared hotel room in Houston, when they were trying not to look too obvious.

And then Emily speaks. It’s a throwaway line; they’re watching a particularly cheesy one and Lindsey thinks that it’s going to be a joke. But it’s not. She says it the same way, though, casually, slipping off of the tongue as it comes to her mind.

“You know I’m gonna miss you, right?”

Lindsey’s caught off guard just for a second. Then she sighs and smiles, shifting her arm under Emily so it doesn’t start to lose circulation, wrapping just a little bit tighter around her arm.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

“This was nice. CONCACAF. You scoring a hat trick. Camp. Being together,” Emily murmurs. It’s back to the Oscars now.

“I hope it was,” Lindsey states dryly, a smile tugging at her lips.

Emily turns to Lindsey suddenly, shifting her whole body onto her side, and their faces are inches apart. Lindsey can smell her own toothpaste on Emily’s breath.

“You were so good this tournament. Amazing. The Great Hat Trick Horan.”

“So were you.”

Emily turns the other way again, saying something that Lindsey thinks is a thank you. That’s not good enough.

“Son. You were good. You don’t need to worry.”

Emily automatically deflects, “I’m not. And for the record, you don’t need to either.”

“I’m not worrying, I know I kicked ass. You’re the one who’s worrying,” Lindsey says insistently, looking down on Emily so she’s forced to look back up. Emily doesn’t say anything, just shrugs a little.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. I’ll see you in March, for She Believes, and we’ll be separated for a bit, but then we’ll go to Tokyo. Together. We’ll kick ass again there.”

Emily nods and directs her eyes back to the TV.

“Em,” Lindsey says. Emily hums out a response. “Em, look at me.” 

And when Emily turns, Lindsey captures her lips in a kiss.

The angle is a little awkward, and Emily is surprised at first, but Lindsey has been waiting and yearning for so long. It leaves her finally satisfied, face flushed, lips a little wet and grinning. Emily is resting on top of her now, chest pressed against Lindsey’s.

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Lindsey says.

Emily grins, “It’s been what, four hours? Missed me that much?”

Lindsey rolls her eyes, “Yes, but like. We won CONCACAF and both of us did super well and I don’t know. I wanted to kiss you. During the ceremony. In front of the cameras. And everyone else.”

When Emily hesitates in responding, Lindsey adds, “I thought you knew.”

“Oh,” is all Emily can say. Lindsey feels her heart start to race.

She sits up, propping herself on the headboard, forcing Emily to lean on her side on the bed instead. She’s focused on the television, a person she doesn’t know accepting an award for some random category for a movie she most definitely hasn’t seen.

“I mean, we haven’t talked about this so, you know. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I knew,” Emily says, sitting up as well, kneeling on the bed. When Lindsey tears her eyes away from the TV, she sees that she’s smiling bashfully, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I wanted to kiss you too. You weren’t misreading any signals.”

Now it’s Lindsey’s turn to say, “Oh.”

“And you can.”

“I did. Like three seconds ago,” Lindsey jokes, just a little. Emily smiles warmly, the tiniest hint of a dimple in her cheek, but continues whatever she’s had built up.

She stumbles a little, “No, I mean, then. So you _ could’ve _ , is what I’m trying to say. And you _ can _, in the future, whenever you want.”

Lindsey puts her hand on Emily’s knee, trying to comfort her. She says, for good measure, “I just wasn’t sure, I didn’t want to push anything-”

Emily groans, putting her face in her hands. Lindsey waits for her to explain, watching the way the hair in her bun shakes out as she shakes her head. Lindsey feels lost.

Emily rubs her face, dragging her hands down her cheeks, as she says, still smiling, “Linds, I want to be with you. Completely. I want the whole deal. Whatever regular people do. I don’t really know. But we'll figure it out."

Oh.

Emily's face grows softer, less exasperated. She tilts her head, speaking tenderly, "Look, I even want the teasing.”

_ Oh. _

“Oh, really?” Lindsey asks, trying to play it off as a joke about the good-natured ribbing she knows they’ll get, but she thinks that the underlying excitement in her voice takes over everything.

Emily takes it as a joke, but Lindsey knows that she gets it. She always has. 

“Well, no. Rose is already brutal. But sacrifices must be made,” she says sagely.

It's so stupid, but it does mean something to Lindsey, and she knows it in the way her heart swoops and her stomach feels the good kind of funny. She laughs it off, deadpanning, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Emily bursts out into throaty laughter, throwing her head back, “Okay, I know you’re kidding, but Rose has been teasing me for years. Years! It hurts! Physically!” She places a hand on her chest, pretending to be in pain.

Lindsey grins, “What, as much as your nasty slide tackles hurt?”

“Those are clean!”

She concedes, just a little bit, while giggling, “As much as goalie gloves to the face?” Emily nods enthusiastically.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes, leaning back against the headboard, but Emily takes her hand and brings it up to her face. She locks eyes with Lindsey, winks, and kisses it gently. Lindsey blushes.

“Your Majesty,” Emily says, before leaning her head back down, hovering over Lindsey's hand in hers. She doesn’t kiss it this time, though. She blows a raspberry instead, cheeks puffed out from the air. Lindsey bursts out into laughter and jerks her hand back.

“Stop!”

Lindsey wipes the left over saliva on Emily’s shorts, or rather, her shorts. They're too big for Emily. She drags them directly on the number 7. Emily makes a surprised noise caught in her throat, and as Lindsey chuckles she pouts while resituating herself into Lindsey’s shoulder. 

Lindsey loves this part. Just being with Emily, anytime but late at night, when they're both tired but happy. Content to lay there in each other's company. They don’t have to do anything, or say anything.

They would always watch movies like this, back in Portland, or they didn't watch, per se. Lindsey would watch Emily instead. Even when she has an early flight, or they both have a morning practice, Lindsey would wait until Emily’s eyes flutter closed and she starts to breathe soft, rhythmic breaths. 

Emily’s starting to do that now, curling into Lindsey’s body. She yawns and then closes her eyes. Lindsey can't help but stare, smiling to herself.

“Goodnight, Linds. Love you,” she whispers. And it’s something that she’s said to her before multiple times, but the softly spoken words carry more weight now. Lindsey feels it in her chest.

“Love you, too,” Lindsey whispers back, but Emily is already fast asleep. 

Lindsey gets up carefully to turn off the TV and the lights. She pads back into bed, covers herself and Emily’s body with the blankets. She pulls Emily closer to her, slowly, as she lies down. 

She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come to her. She has a flight tomorrow, she has to wake up early and pack, rush to LAX and hope there’s no delays. She’s going to take the time to relax as much as possible, or at least as much as she let’s herself. 

And she’s leaving Emily tomorrow, seeing her in a month that Lindsey knows will feel longer than it should. She should be thinking about saying goodbye, the fast approaching season, the new status quo both with Emily and without her. She should be worrying, despite what Emily told her and despite what she told Emily. She would usually think about all of the things to be improved, all of the things she can do to make herself better, the next milestone, the next goal. Constantly pushing further.

But her mind is completely blank. She’s just vaguely aware of Emily’s warmth next to her, the dip in the bed from Emily’s weight, Emily’s hair on her neck. That’s all she thinks of as she drifts off into a deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> request me @ broilbaby on twitter!


End file.
